I woke up at Six in the morning. Not to an alarm, nor an internal clock. No. More fighting. Every day. Morning. Night. Breakfast. Lunch. Yelling. Screaming. Things breaking. All while I cower in my “room”. Which consisted of discarded, moldy furniture, soggy boxes, darkness, a concrete floor, the washer and dryer, a dirtied yellowish mattress, and-thank goodness-a sheet.

I headed upstairs and picked up the clean clothes that my poor excuse for parents leave out for me on the couch and headed to the bathroom to shower, because god forbid I go to school and give any indication of my home life being toxic, radioactive even.

The short amount of time I have to shower is the one time I feel happy. It feels great to wash all the basement grime away, makes me feel like a new person. Not that it lasts long.

After the shower, I dried off, got dressed, and wiped off the mirror so I could properly fix my hair. A thin faced boy with brown eyes and hair looked back at me.

After fixing my hair, I sat at the table for breakfast, because god forbid the school think my parents don’t feed me and schedule a home visit.

Byron ate eggs, bacon, and toast with jam and beer in silence while Margret ate just eggs and toast with butter and wine. One of them had “made my plate” with two pieces of toast, no jam or butter for me. Ever.

After eating my dry toast and draining my water glass, I washed my dishes and put on my jacket and a pair of worn boots. They don’t help much considering the holes. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and open the door. The instant I step out of the house I’m hit with a blast of biting wind, forcing my hood down. Without gloves, I shut the door behind me and shove my hands in my pockets and walk as fast as I can against the constant cold blade of wind against my face.

After half an hour of trekking through snow, I arrived at school. As usual, shivering with wet shoes and pant legs, I passed the sign that read “Allen Roy High” and headed into the warmth of school. My feet sloshed around in wet socks each time I took a step. I made it to the cafeteria for breakfast and sat down, dropping my backpack and stripping off my boots and socks before digging into my bag and removing a pair of dry shoes and the socks that I was given during the weekend but never wore.

Putting the socks, then shoes, my mind wandered. Will I ever escape this crappy cycle? The bell rang, “Probably not.” I muttered to myself, standing up and shouldering my backpack once more, carrying my boots in one hand, I walked down the hall to my class. I walk with the crowd. I have nothing, but Byron dresses me like I do to avoid suspicion. Walking amongst all these people who see me as just another normal person. No, they don’t see me at all. I was made to blend in. If I am seen, all they see is a quiet sophomore. No more no less. My parents told me not to attract attention to myself, get perfectly average grades, and don’t do anything that will draw attention to our household. Some days I wondered if they were hiding something other than our toxic household. Drugs? I wouldn’t put it past them.

I sat down in Ms. Riken’s homeroom class. The first time I came in holding set boots in my hands she had let me set them in front of the radiator until the end of the day so I wouldn’t have to carry them. “Two birds with one slice of bread” She’d said.

I always took a seat by the window during this period so I could space out since she never talked about anything I would deem important.

I saw my reflection in the window. Because I shower daily and wash my face at night, I was acne free. Unlike most others my age. I felt a hand touch my back. I winced and flinched away. It was Ms. Riken.

“Are you okay? I was calling your name but you didn’t respond.” She asked, genuinely concerned. I only gave her a slight nod as I rolled my shoulder, which was sore from a beating the night prior. I looked at her forehead, I couldn’t look her, or anyone, in the eyes. It was too difficult for me.

“I was asking you if you were interested in any clubs, maybe it would help you come out of your shell. You are a junior already after all.” She smiled. The whole class was looking at me now because of her. That was why I almost never responded when called on by a teacher.

I shook my head and looked back out the window. In the reflection I could see the heads turn away, slowly but surely. Then I saw her reflection gingerly take a seat in the desk next to mine, facing me.

“Your other teachers are worried too. They want to try to get you to socialize more.” She said and waited patiently for a response.

There was none. Then the bell rang, so I calmly grabbed up my bag and left the room as if she wasn’t there.

She gently called after me, “Alex, you can stay after class to talk about this if you’d like.”

I turned my head to see her now standing next to the desk I was at. “No thanks.” I turned back and headed to my next class, Algebra. I walked through the overcrowded halls, my mind like an old tv. Static. Not thinking about anything at all, even up to the point where I took my seat. I sit in the far corner of the room, everyone steers clear of where I sit. They think I’m weird. Sometimes I hear them talking about me when it’s time to work on classwork.

I unslung my backpack onto the floor and took out a pencil and last Friday’s homework. The teacher was sitting behind his desk, looking at his computer with a complicated expression before glancing at me. I looked away.

Ms. Riken must have emailed him. I stood up and put my homework in the turn in bin and grabbed today’s worksheets, then returned to my seat. I glanced up at Mr. Lewis.

He was looking at the homework I’d just turned in, comparing it to another paper, likely the answer key, and sighed. He then marked it with a pen and gestured for me to come back up.

I stood once more and made my way to his desk. Once I stopped in front of him he held up the paper. It had ‘100%’ scrawled across the top in red ink. “You know we’re supposed to go through this together before you turn it in, right?”

I shrugged and refused to make eye contact, which earned me yet another complicated look.

No more words were exchanged, he handed the paper back to me and I tossed it in the trash before returning to my seat once more. The bell rang.

“Okay. Test day today.” As if on cue, the entire class groaned. I just stared at my pencil with my head on my hand. Mr. Lewis spoke, “Keep them face down until I tell you otherwise,” then he handed out the test packets, paired with scratch paper, and, because of my location, I was the last to get one.

“You may begin.” He said. After the initial rustling of paper, there was silence. Which would be broken only by the occasional tapping of a pencil.

I stared at the test packet for a few minutes before starting. I picked up my pencil and started easily working out the problems. Too easy. Halfway through, I looked around. Irritated, worried, and tired faces focused on the papers in front of them. The sound of pencils on paper and pages turning as students progressed filled the room.

Even though I waited before starting, I finished the packet before anyone else. So instead of turning it in first and drawing attention to myself, I laid my head down on my desk and waited.

“Time’s up. Pencils down. Pass up your papers.” He said. The sound of pencils dropping onto desks reverberated through the silence, followed by papers fluttering as they got passed forward. I had to stand up and pass it myself since the seats near me were treated as if they were radioactive.

As I sat back down, Mr. Lewis said, “All right, the rest of the time is yours.” and he retreated back to his desk. His mouse clicked around a few times before stopping again. He sighed and turned in his chair to face me once more, “Alex. They want you in the guidance office”.

I shouldered my bag once more and left the room. I had never been there before, but my counselor was outside her door when she stopped me in the hall, so I knew where it was.

It didn’t take long to get there. I knocked and a muffled, kind, voice answered, “Come in please.” I opened the door, revealing a compact office. There was a desk, two chairs, some filing cabinets, a shelf, and a small blond lady sitting in a swivel chair behind a laptop. “Have a seat.” she said, her voice smooth, flowing like water. I sat.

She carefully considered me for a moment. I looked at the floor. “My name is Ms. Lisa. You were sent here because some staff were worried.” She explained. When I didn’t say anything, she continued, “Is everything alright at home?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Sorry, but while you’re in here I ask that you use your words to answer my questions.” She chided.

I looked up, but not quite at her. “My home life is the same as it’s always been. No change.” I said in a hoarse voice.

She leaned forward, clasping her hands together on the table, “Let me change the question. Do you feel in danger in your home?”

A low growl of a laugh resounded from a deep, dark, corner of my mind. An invisible smile teasing the corners of my lips. “No.”

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She nodded, “Okay, onto your behavior then. Even with your antisocial disposition, you can’t just walk away when a teacher, an adult is talking to you. It’s rude and disrespectful.”

I shrugged. And? I thought to myself as more dark laughter resounded from the depths of my mind.

She sighed, “At this rate, you’ll be suspended for bad behavior. You have a lot of potential. Straight A’s.”

My gaze slowly drifted back to meet hers. It was a cold, dead stare. I said nothing, I didn’t have to.

She cleared her throat and aimed her eyes near my forehead rather than continuing to meet my gaze head on. “One last question. Would you like to join any clubs? I think it would help you to make friends.”

I rolled my eyes and stood up grabbing my bag. “Can I go now?” I asked irritably while pulling on my backpack.

“The bell will ring in a few minutes. Could you wait until then?” She asked. Her demeanor changed somewhat after making eye contact with me. Like she was afraid to tell me what to and what not to do.

I learned in elementary that I shouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. Everyone I did make eye contact with had cried and thought I was going to hurt them. Uncompromising gaze. That’s what I call it, why my parents have me in the basement. ‘Eyes are the window to the soul’ or so they say. So that makes me wonder, are they looking into my soul and fearing what they see? Or are they looking behind my eyes and seeing the thing I hear laughing deep in my mind. The thought sent a shiver down my mind, accompanied by a twitch of a smile.

I sat back down, my bag still on. She was now looking at her computer, but I could tell, she was trying not to look at me. I decided to break the silence, “So even the school shrink can’t look me in the eye huh?” My voice just above a whisper, giving it an unintentionally menacing tone.

She flinched at the sudden sound of my voice, then regained her composure. “I am aware of your.. Disposition. Other than exhibiting antisocial behavior, you have what I’d call, ‘mean looking eyes’. Even if you’re not mad, you look it. Yes?”

I considered it for a moment, “Then this time, don’t break eye contact.” Then I looked her in the eyes again.

Almost instantly, her eyes tried to dart away, but she persisted. And then I smiled. She immediately stood up and cleared her throat, “The bell will ring any second. Feel free to head to your next class.”

More laughter echoed from the dark corner of my mind as I stood up and left her office. Being feared has its advantages, I thought before shoving my smile back down into the depths of my mind. The bell rang and I headed to my next class.

I went from Health to History to Latin without any interesting occurrences. So I headed to my fifth class period of the day , Gym.

The teacher was your stereotypical fat gym teacher who couldn’t do half of the things they tell you to do. Mr. Carsole, but people call him Mr. Casserole behind his back. He had us running laps around the gym. I liked running, so it didn’t bother me. In fact, I usually jogged home when I wasn’t afraid that I’d slip. I paced myself and was able to run longer than most of the others in class, until someone pushed me.

“Oops, my bad.” He faked before muttering, “Space case.” and jogging off.

Something cracked in my mind once more. I got up and walked to the bleachers to sit, which caught the teacher’s attention. He waddled over to me.

“Did I say you could stop? Besides, you were doing good. You're really going to let someone like Jason hurt your grade?” He strained for breath.

I looked him up and down, biting my tongue. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s stopped running. I thought. Ignoring him, I walked away to go get a drink of water.

Instead of following me to scold me more, he sat on the bleachers catching his breath. It was ironic how they hired a man who couldn’t even walk without getting winded as a gym teacher.

After he caught his breath, he shouted, “You can all stop running now. Good job.” He was breathing harder than most of the students who were running. Half of the students collapsed onto the floor and just laid there whereas the more experienced athletes went to grab water and walked to cool down. I sat against the wall, staring off once more when a figure came into view. Nothing abnormal at first, so I ignored him. Then he was walking toward me. I rolled my eyes.

Jason crouched in front of me, “What? Tired already?” He pushed my shoulder. “C’mon, let’s run some more. Let’s have a race. Winner gets to order the loser to do one thing.”

I stood up. “Pass.” And walked away, but I only got a few feet away before he ran up and stood in front of me.

“What, are you scared?” Jason jeered, walking backwards before stopping abruptly and holding his arms out. “No’s not an option.”

“If no isn’t an option then what’s the point in getting me to race when you could be using that persistence to get me to do what you want without the extra effort?” I asked, irritated.

He froze up and I tried walking past him. He blocked my path again. “C’mon, it’s just some friendly competition.” He insisted.

I saw some people, presumably his friends watching nearby, smiling. Embarrass him. The voice that had only been laughter before now advised. I felt a phantom smile try to worm its way onto my face and I turned completely, starting to walk in that direction. When Jason tried circling around to block me again, I stuck out my foot and tripped him. Everyone laughed, then I turned once more and walked to retrieve my backpack. The clock said it was twelve thirty-four. One minute. I didn’t look behind me, but I was sure that he was fuming. The bell rang just as I scooped up my backpack and I left for my sixth period class. Chemistry.

I sat in my desk, back of the room as usual, and waited for class to start. I liked math and chemistry, it figures that if I were good at math I’d be good at chemistry. I find any kind of math fun, especially when it’s challenging.

The bell rang and everyone was in their seats. Some people chatting away while Mr. Flynn prepared to pass out our assignment for the day. I pulled out a pencil and absentmindedly tapped it on the desk while staring at the board that had this unit’s formulas and some practice problems.

Five minutes passed and Mr. Flynn had only just started handing out this unit’s packet, so I took out my notebook and wrote down the two formulas and then set up the practice problems before solving them. I was almost done when Mr. Flynn spoke up.

“Alright. Unit two, here we go. Everyone take out your notebooks and write down what’s on the board. Then try the practice problems on your own. We’ll go through them together in a few minutes.” He instructed, oddly energetically for someone who’s been teaching all day.

The sounds of pencils on paper filled the room again along with the occasional chatter.

“This is a silent assignment. No asking classmates for answers, this is testing your own capabilities. You’ll only put yourself at a disadvantage for the quiz next week and the test two weeks from now. “ He said, earning a collective groan from the entire class.

I stared at the paper for a while, tapping my pencil with one hand and resting my head on the other. After a few minutes, I decided that I should probably start. As it was a new unit, Mr. Flynn wouldn’t be expecting much from us. I left the last few blank and put my head down. I’m tired. I thought as I drifted off, but it wasn’t just that I wanted to sleep. I was tired of the way I’d been forced to live.

A hand on my shoulder woke me up. I tore my arm away, and took a moment to gather my surroundings again before calming down.

“I tried to wake you up during class, but you were out. The bell just rang.” He spoke and stepped back.

“Thanks.” I said and stood up, putting my pencil, and what would now be homework, in my bag and headed to my seventh period class. I walked groggily through the halls until I made it to my English class.

The bell rang just before I entered, but nobody impeded my entrance, so I went straight to my seat in the back of the class and the teacher, Mr. Jamie, started talking. Boring. I spaced out for the whole class period up until he gave us the rest of the time to ourselves.

That’s when I saw someone out of my peripheral. The stereotypical upperclassmen jock, Jason, walked over to me. "Hey space cadet.." He jeered, standing next to me. I didn't respond. He jabbed at my arm just enough to hurt. A crack rang out in my mind. "You have some balls ignoring me after what you did in gym class." He spoke threateningly. I looked even further away, and as he was about to hit me again, a feminine voice spoke out, "Just leave him alone, meathead." She called. Jason’s eyes searched the room for the culprit, and when he found her, he averted his gaze. Clearly irritated, but didn’t, maybe couldn't, do anything. He walked away, mumbling.

A somewhat tall, lean, green eyed ginger strided up to my desk and held out her hand, "I'm Allison, a black, almost red, belt in Karate and a fifth degree black belt in Judo." She beamed proudly. Pretty, I thought to myself before averting my gaze, not shaking her hand. "Thanks," I mumbled, barely audible. She retracted her hand and sat down next to me. "People think I'm weird too, but I prefer the term different. Maybe we could hang out, what lunch do you have?" She asked, but the bell rang before I could answer. "Strict parents. See you." was all I could muster before hefting up my backpack and leaving the class. I disappeared into the crowd, heading to my homeroom to collect my, now dry, coat and boots. Allison had lost me and, with a sigh, left for home determined to try harder next time.

Outside of school, on my way home, I heard the Jock from earlier call out to me, "Hey freak. Let's finish what we started in class. "He grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around, another echo of a laugh, alongside a crack, resounded in my mind. The chain that bound the dark and horrible voice had begun to crack. I looked him dead in the eyes. Unwavering. "What are you looking at, freak?" He punched me square in the bridge of my nose. I collapsed into the snow, holding my nose, staining the snow a crimson color. The chain cracked more and more and the echoes of laughter bouncing off the insides of my skull got louder as I tried to hold on to what sanity I had left. Until one of the links finally snapped, releasing the monster I had tried to subdue my whole life. A smile creeped up onto my face under my hand and I rose to my feet, letting my hands drop to my sides. I laughed. It was a cruel, twisted laugh that made him cringe back a step.

He was with one other person, a girl I didn't recognize. She stepped back as well, eyeing Jason like he was insane for taunting me. She had a point.

I cracked my neck before charging in abruptly, landing a blow to his Adam's apple, then his sternum. He crumpled, holding his throat, struggling to breathe. "How's it feel, prick?" I grabbed his head and slammed it into my knee. I felt a crunch. Broken nose I thought as more insidious laughter filled my mind. Only, it wasn’t just filling my mind, but the air as well, turning both Jason and the girl as white as the ground.

When I went in to deliver another strike, he scuttled away on his back in the snow, fearing for his life while his girlfriend turned tail and ran. "What?" I mused. "Afraid now that the defenseless ‘Space Cadet Freak’ is fighting back? Stand up, your girl already took off and left you alone." When he curled up in defense, my twisted smile turned into a grimace. "Pathetic. I may be a loser, but you're a filthy coward that feigns strength by picking on those weaker than themselves." I spat and kicked him in the ribs before turning and walking away.

Little did I know, that fight would be the one of two events that would change my life forever, and maybe not for the best either.

Once I got home, I shucked my boots into the corner and took off my coat and backpack before retreating to my room. My parents didn’t say anything to me, nor did I say anything to them, but if they’d seen the cut on the bridge of my nose, or the clear signs of a fight on my knuckles, they might have tried to beat me, and that would end poorly for them today. I laid on my back and stared at the web filled ceiling and fell asleep, echoes of laughter still ringing through my mind.